


lights out

by valety



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Other, POV Second Person, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6731512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valety/pseuds/valety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chara and Asriel often find themselves in the same bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lights out

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something cute and sweet and warm and fuzzy. hopefully I succeeded

You’ve always slept better with someone beside you, if one defines ‘always’ as beginning with the Dreemurrs.

As children, you and Asriel share a room. As a result, your beds are almost always open to each other. You often crawl in along beside him following a nightmare, clinging to him as one would a stuffed animal for comfort, but occasionally, Asriel climbs in with you instead. He never offers you a reason, but you think you have a fairly good idea why: he’s often struck with unexpected fits of loneliness that leave him desperate for reminders that somebody cares, and you’re usually the one to provide him with the reassurance that he needs.

Usually, you only go to him when you’re positive that you can’t sleep. But after yet another night of failing to resist the comfort of his bed—of his presence—you decide that you’re simply not meant to be apart. You’re meant to be each other’s warmth, to feel the weight of one another’s arms around you and to let the steady rhythm of your breathing lull each other to sleep.

So the next night, you go to his bed directly.

Asriel is still brushing his teeth. You yourself have decided to forego this step in the standard bedtime ritual in favour of making yourself as comfortable as possible on the (slightly) unfamiliar mattress.

When Asriel returns, he stops in the doorway and blinks once in confusion upon seeing your location, looking as baffled as though the room has somehow reoriented itself entirely while he was gone. With a slight frown, he says, “Isn’t that _my_ bed?”

It’s a question so foolish that it doesn’t warrant a response. You simply raise your eyebrows meaningfully.

Asriel stares at you, still looking somewhat puzzled, then awkwardly begins to shuffle towards _your_ bed on the other end of the room.

“No,” you say, and he lifts his head. You pat the mattress beside you. The expression of confusion on his face only deepens, and you roll your eyes, saying, “I always end up joining you _anyway,_ so we might as well get right to it.”

When you say this, Asriel’s entire face lights up brighter than the sun. His smile is so wide that you almost have to look away; it hurts to see him looking so delighted. You’d bet anything that his silly little tail is wagging as he trips over his own two feet to join you.

Asriel wriggles up against you, giggling and somehow blushing through his fur as he makes himself comfortable. He looks so _happy_ , so stupidly, pathetically _happy_ , as though you’ve given him some wonderful gift, as though you’ve granted him treasures beyond his imagination, when all you’ve done is invade his bed. It makes you want to pinch him, but you don’t; instead you focus your attention on a faintly discoloured spot on the wallpaper.

When Toriel and Asgore come to bid you goodnight, they find you and Asriel already curled up together. Chuckling softly, they kiss you each on the forehead and switch off the lights.

In the dark, Asriel wraps an arm around your middle. He does so easily, like there was never any question in his mind of what exactly this new sleeping arrangement should entail. Sighing happily, he says, “We should do this _always.”_

You say nothing, but you wind your arms around him in return, allowing your limbs to become as entangled with his as you dare. Despite how small he is, there’s something reassuring about his presence; you feel as though he’d eagerly chase away your nightmare.

“If you don’t mind,” you say, voice careful. “It might be nice.”

“Yeah!” Asriel says, a little too quickly, a little too loudly, nodding emphatically against your chest and almost bumping his head against your chin. “Yeah, it _would_ be! If you want to, I mean,” he adds.

“Thank you,” you say, unsure of how else to respond.

Your voice is low and stiff. Despite how thoroughly you and Asriel have become wrapped up in one another, you feel almost painfully awkward. Normally you would try and distract from this awkwardness with an insult or a well-timed poke, but you can’t seem to muster enough ill-will to bother.

It feels like such a strange thing for you to ask, to be allowed to share his bed on a regular basis when you have your own just a few feet away. It feels stranger still for Asriel to comply so eagerly. But you can’t seem to work out which one of you is the stranger, and so you decide that it’s not worth worrying about.

You feel Asriel wriggling, fidgeting. With a frown, you open your mouth to ask what his problem is, but then you feel him peck your cheek.

“Goodnight,” he says, a little shyly.

Your face is blazing, but you won’t be shown up. You lean forward to peck his cheek as well.

Even though he’d been the one to kiss you first, Asriel squeaks the moment your lips make contact.

“Goodnight,” you mumble, and Asriel once more snuggles up against you. You can see him smiling in the dark.

You sleep well that night, and when you wake up, the two of you are holding hands.

Things change when you’re teenagers.

Somehow, it stops feeling so natural for the two of you to share a bed. The innocence of the gesture never disappears entirely, but it changes form, taking on an undercurrent of desperation that unsettles you more than you’d care to admit. You wonder if maybe this is just a part of growing up, or if maybe it’s a new flavour of the loneliness that Asriel has always carried with him, or if maybe it’s something else completely. You wonder if you’ll ever know for sure.

For a while, you stop trying. You just can’t seem to find a way to _fit._ Asriel’s too _big,_ and you’re too full of thorns, and whenever you embrace each other, it becomes something awkward and unhappy due to all that’s left unsaid.

But then, one night at midnight, when you are still awake and trying to read by flashlight—probably doing permanent damage to your eyes in the process—you hear a tentative knocking at your door.

Toriel wouldn’t knock if she were checking to make sure you were asleep. Instead of diving under the blankets, you go to answer it.

When you do, you’re met by Asriel. He’s taller than you now, so much so that you will likely have to crane your neck to see his face soon. Despite this, he’s slouching as he fiddles with the hem of his pajama shirt, wearing the bewildered expression of a shy child who’s not yet worked out that he’s grown up to be quite impressive-looking. It makes your heart swell with affection.

“Um,” Asriel says after a moment of awkward silence in which he’s presumably realized that you have no intention of being the first to speak. ”Can I…?”

He trails off.

“Can you what?” you ask, because whatever Asriel wants, it’s clearly embarrassing him, and you like seeing Asriel embarrassed.

True to form, he blushes. He swallows—once, twice—then says, “I know we’re not little kids anymore, but, uh, I can’t sleep, and...and sleeping in the same bed always helped _before,_ so…?”

You’d let him drag it out even longer, but he admittedly seems fairly desperate. You step aside and Asriel’s eyes light up in gratitude as he enters your room.

You place your book on the dresser and switch off your flashlight. When you turn back around, Asriel is waiting for you beside the bed.

“Y-you should be the one to get in first,” he says, clearly embarrassed. “Because, I’m...big? And I might knock you off the bed if you’re on the edge.”

“Right,” you say. “You think it’d be better if I were crushed against the wall instead.”

Asriel splutters. Still, you do as he suggests, climbing into bed first and shuffling aside to make room for him.

When he climbs in beside you, your body instantly relaxes. It’s like letting out a breath you hadn’t even known that you were holding. But then he turns his back on you, making no move to embrace you the way he would’ve once, and your heart sinks. You hadn’t _wanted_ him to hug you; having Asriel touch you forces you to acknowledge just how much he’s grown, something that’s been making you uneasy for months. Yet now, you find yourself wishing for him to take you into the safety of his arms, the way he’d always done when you were haunted by a nightmare in the past.

You can’t say this. You can’t find your voice. You’re lost in the weight of him beside you, in the warmth that you’d been missing without ever once daring to put a name to it.

Still, Asriel must have been missing it too, you realize. Why else would he have come to you? He’d said so himself: he couldn’t sleep, and he’d thought that being close to you would help, so…

Then, on an impulse unfamiliar to you, _you_ are the one who reaches out first, rolling over and slipping an arm around his waist.

Asriel grows still.

Then, in the hushed whisper that he’s always used when speaking in the dark, he says, “Did you... _mean_ to do that?”

“No,” you say into his back, tightening your grip. “It was an accident.”

Asriel remains still, but there’s an exhale of air; a poorly-stifled laugh. You feel him relax, and, feeling bold, you press your face into the crook of his neck, right where his neck and shoulder meet. He smells clean and sweet, like grass and sunshine and _home._

You’ve missed this, you realize. You’ve missed the privacy afforded by the dark, leaving the two of you free to be affectionate—more affectionate than you feel safe being in the day, at least. The day exposes things, leaves them raw and gaping, but the night provides you with a chance to be close without having to explain it. Embracing Asriel is something strange now, kissing him on the cheek has become more than just a kiss, but when it’s late and the two of you are sharing a bed, it’s only natural that you’d end up like this.

Asriel is quiet as you nuzzle his neck. You feel affectionate in your sleepiness.

Then, after a moment of awkward silence, he asks, “Did you mean to do _that?”_

“Asriel,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. It won’t do to start yelling at him _now,_ not when neither one of you are even supposed to be awake. _“You_ were the one who asked if you could sleep here. In my tiny, human-sized bed. Where there is literally no room for the two of us unless we’re touching at least a _little.”_

“Um,” he says. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

“...do you mind?”

If he says yes, then of course you’ll let go, but you hope he doesn’t say yes. You used to do this every night and you’ve missed it more than you can say. Surely he must feel the same. Right?

Without moment’s hesitation, Asriel’s hands close around your own, twining your fingers together.

“No,” he says, voice still nighttime-soft. “It’s okay.”

Satisfied, you throw a leg over his knees to keep him in place. You can’t have Asriel getting any big ideas about moving away from you, not now that you finally have your favourite pillow back.

When you wake up, Asriel is still relaxed in the cradle of your arms, and you smile and nestle against him.

Things remain odd between you for a while. Asriel is still a stranger to himself, and you’re still as prickly and shy as ever, but on the occasional sleepless night, you find yourselves once more going to each other’s beds, seeking comfort in each other’s arms, the way you did when you were children. The way you think you always will.

When you get your own apartment, you only get one bed. There’s never any question of needing another.

On that first night, you fall together, interlocking as though you’d never been apart. But in the morning, you’re still whole enough to dress and eat and go to work without his hand in yours. You’ve reconnected, but you haven’t been locked in. There’s none of the desperate magnetism of your childhood that had left the two of you afraid to pull apart.

You decide fairly quickly that this is your favourite way to be. It’s as though living together and officially sharing a bed is the rightful evolution of your life together; the inevitable outcome of all those nights spent curled together.

One morning, you wake up early. It’s not because you’re having a nightmare, nor is it because you have to use the washroom. You’re simply ready to wake up.

When you do, you catch a glimpse of the rising sun peering through the curtains, gilding Asriel’s fur. His breathing is so steady, his arm so comfortably settled around your waist, that you think at first that he must still be asleep, but then he nuzzles your hair and presses a gentle kiss against the crown of your head.

“Good morning,” you say, and Asriel kisses you once more in lieu of answering.

You’re not yet fully awake, but through your haze, you can feel careful fingertips brushing through your hair. You let your eyes fall shut once more as Asriel nuzzles you, legs tangling with his beneath the blanket. Warmth spills through you at his touch, lovely and golden, and there it is, a gentle burst of affection, creeping on you like a sickness.

“This is a pretty good motivation,” you murmur, eyes opening.

“Motivation?”

“To wake up,” you explain. You lift a hand so that you can stroke the soft white of his fur. “I get to see you like this. You look so pretty in the light.”

“Pretty,” Asriel repeats, voice flat.

 _“So_ pretty,” you repeat.

Instead of answering, Asriel catches your hand as it’s running over his ears, bringing it to his mouth. He kisses your wrist. A shiver brushes through you despite yourself.

“What time is it?” you ask. Not a very romantic direction for the conversation to take, but you can’t relax without having _some_ idea of how much time you have, and Asriel’s current position should give him a comfortable view of the clock.

“Early,” is his vague reply.

 _“How_ early?”

“Early enough that we can stay in bed a while longer.”

You grunt in concession, and Asriel gives a happy little sigh as you hugs you to his chest, practically smothering you in his fur.

Even in your daze, you know enough to snuggle up against him, resting your head against his neck, just the way he likes. Asriel’s fingers resume their gentle stroking, working steadily and without pause, and you sigh. Your instinct is to hum with pleasure, but you don’t want to make a sound that Asriel could accuse of being a purr; he already compares you to a cat far more often than you’d like. Always favorably, he insists, but you don’t really care about Asriel’s opinion on the matter.

“We have to get up eventually,” you say at last.

“No,” Asriel murmurs. “Kiss me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kiss me,” he repeats, arms tightening around you. _“Please?”_

You sigh and roll your eyes, making a show of being put out even as you cup his face and press your mouth against his.

You let it linger, but when you pull away, Asriel is pouting. “That’s not the kind of kiss I meant,” he whines, and you almost snort with laughter. He can be so _childish_ in the mornings, before his sense of reason kicks in and reminds him that he has a persona to maintain.

“You’ll just have to show me what you meant, I guess,” you say.

Asriel’s eyes light up.

You’re expecting something rough and needy, but he’s surprisingly careful, brushing a thumb against your cheek before pulling you towards him. He kisses you so softly that it’s as though he’s afraid that you will turn to dust if he’s not gentle with you. He practically sighs against your mouth, and you imagine swallowing the sound, keeping it locked inside you.

“I love you,” Asriel says when you break the kiss.

“I love you too,” you say. The words are more of an instinct than a habit by now. It feels like they’re always there, always waiting, always eager to come spilling from your lips, no matter how hard you try to maintain control by biting them back.

Asriel smiles, then once again leans up to kiss you.

“Asriel,” you say in-between him leisurely kissing you into the bed. “It’s definitely morning now. Time to be adults.”

“Not today,” he replies, pressing a lazy kiss against your jaw. “We’re staying in bed all day and I’m going to kiss you.”

You think that if Asriel had his way, the two of you _would_ spend the entire day in bed, kissing and fawning over one another, but…

Actually, you can’t actually think of a single reason why you shouldn’t.

“An interesting proposition,” you say.

“Mm,” Asriel replies as he nuzzles you.

“I’m willing to consider it, but only so long as you can keep up your end of the bargain.”

“By kissing you?” he repeats. “I think I can probably manage that.”

He can’t. He makes an admirable effort, but is ultimately overcome by the luxurious drowsiness that tends to come to those who’ve stayed in bed long past a reasonable hour. In the end, Asriel drifts off to sleep once more, leaving you thoroughly kissed and contemplating following him.

You know you’ll have to make a token effort at being responsible sooner or later, but for now, you don’t mind taking a little break so that you may bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment. You deserve a rest, after all, and besides—you’ve always slept better with someone beside you.


End file.
